On Being Perpetually Late to Church

On Being Perpetually Late to Church

Amy Lindquist

When I am old I shall arrive early
    an hour early, a fat hour dripping with minutes
        yes, I shall arrive early to church    

I will slip into the sanctuary before they turn on the lights
    and sit near the stained glass windows
        where the sun spills in all green and gold

I’ll sweep the doorstep of my soul,
    swish open every curtain, unlock every door
        cupboard and drawer for which I can find a key
            shake out the rugs, do everything I can to prepare

Then I’ll turn to the work of Aaron,
    who propped up his brother’s drooping hands
        if the church is a cathedral, I want to be a flying buttress

I’ll greet all the other old ladies
    as they drop each other off at the portico
        park their sedans and come in for a thimbleful of coffee

And as the opening hymn marches on
    through the third and fourth verse
        I’ll remember to glance over my shoulder

I’ll watch for harried mothers and fathers
    rushing in, jaws set, herding their children
        toward the least conspicuous open seat

I’ll smile at them as if to say
    I’m glad you’re here, it’s better, believe me,
        to come late than not at all

It’s better to come deflated and grumpy
    having quarreled in the car
        than to give up and feel you don’t belong

And my older self will slide over and make room
    for my younger self and I’ll thank her
        for her kindnesses to me all these years

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Amy Lindquist
Poet

Amy lives in St. Paul, Minnesota where she enjoys writing, singing, taking accordion lessons, and educating her two children. Her poetry explores the intersection of faith and humor and has been published in Montana Woman, Solum Literary Journal, Collected and Relief Journal.

Photography by Pixabay